We've lived in close proximity to each other for seven years, and have been best friends for five. She is a joy. An honest-to-goodness blessing in my life that just keeps blessing me. And right when I think things can't get any sweeter, they always do.
Her name is Dorraine. She was named after the song Dorraine of Ponchartrain, by Johnny Cash. My Dorraine, much like Johnny's, is a spit-fire who always lets you know right where you stand. My Dorraine never minces words; diplomacy is a waste of her God-given time on this planet, and this is a huge reason why I love her so. It's just so refreshing to see a grown woman roll her eyes at her children, or threaten her neighbor with a back-side beating using her polenta paddle. This woman is gold, I tell you. A true one-of-a-kind.
To beat the winter doldrums, the two of us decided to go to our local Nordic Center and snowshoe around their trails.
From the time we entered the facility, we had the staff in stitches. (Partly because we were geeking out about the trail names, which came straight from the J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings. Like any red-blooded American women, we decided we would not return until we'd located Legolas on the Rivendell leg.)
But, alas, we did not find the luscious Legolas out in the snow, and therefore, did not get a chance to save him from hypothermia - which would have been a bonus.
But we did split the silent air with our laughter; cackling at the top of our lungs as we rounded Middle Earth.
At the end of our trek, we were sweating, panting, and jubilant. The day was a God-send. The scenery was perfection on a platter. The company, divine.
Thank you, God, for my BFF. My life has been so blessed by the gift of Dorraine.
Love to you all,
Sylva
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